


The First Day of The Rest Of Their Lives

by Madamegoethe



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Communication Failure, Fluff, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, especially aziraphale, they are so bad at this it hurts, this has been a long time coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madamegoethe/pseuds/Madamegoethe
Summary: The Apocalypse has been averted and that has been the biggest problem the two of them have been facing for the last six thousand years of knowing each other, right? Right?!Oh, if there only weren't metaphors and missunderstandings...





	1. Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> This series had me entranced start from finish like barely any other has, you could see that it was a work of love from everyone involved and, two weeks on, the tender softness and the awesome dynamic between Aziraphale and Crowley just didn't leave my head - which is why, amazingly, I was able to write something for the first time in a year(?)  
> I wrote this in one go, this isn't beta'ed at all, so I'm sorry for all and any mistakes you may find (if you want to, please point them out to me, I know I'm always bothered by them ;) )  
> I just needed to get this out there since I was so happy this brilliant series inspired me enough to be finally able to write again, so here it is - imperfect like a demon, fluffy like an angel wearing tweed - hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are going too fast for me"

The apocalypse had been successfully averted and now they had lunch. The nightingale had, although unbeknownst to them, sung in Berkely square, and they had already consumed a bottle and a half of excellent Veuve Cliquot between the two of them, when Crowley, slightly tipsy already, leaned closer to Aziraphale in that slouchy way of his that should annoy the Angel, but, and don’t ever tell anyone this, that he actually found rather…weirdly endearing. Well, maybe it was just the bubbly in his angelic bloodstream

“You know Angel” Crowley slurred, his breath nearly ghosting the Angel’s ear “I’ve been wondering…D’you really think my driving’s that bad? Cuz’…cuz’ you know…I’ve never...I’ve never really driven anyone over in all of my 120 years of driving. Weeeell, except for that witch, and that was really just because you were… because I was distracted” he finished lamely, pulling himself back abruptly and downing the rest of his glass of champagne in one go, averting his vertical pupils.  
Aziraphale was flabberghasted and it took him a few seconds to respond  
“Why, whatever do you mean my dear chap? I can hardly recall ever criticising your driving and when I did it once, you..”  
“You said I was going too fast for you!” Crowley interrupted him, harshly, eyes still very much averted  
“Oh” Aziraphale said, and pondered this for a second, looking at his best friend’s back, for not only had he averted his eyes, he’d also turned slightly away from him by now.  
“OH!” Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed, sitting his glass down with slightly more force than he meant to, which startled Crowley out of his pouting posture and made him turn around again

“Oh my dear friend, it was a figure of speech, a metaphor! You see, a metaphor is something used in a book when someone wants to express…”  
“I bloody well know what a metaphor is, Angel!” Crowley growled  
“Well” Aziraphale blinked “I just thought…you always said you don’t read books”  
The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a sarcastic smile  
“Figure of speech” he fired back “Honestly, Angel! We’ve been to see Shakespeare together and I gave him a few of his greatest lines. I even told you I like his funny ones better! I’ve been on this earth for six thousand years. What do you think I am, an idiot?! Of course I read books! Just not…well, you’re the one with the bookshop. You’re the clever one! I didn’t want to…” he fell silent and averted his eyes again, downing another glass of champagne.

For what it was worth, Aziraphale found his cheeks getting quite hot with a very unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling. He guessed that the humans called this “shame”.  
He allowed himself exactly eighteen seconds to breathe, drink a sip of champagne, put his thoughts in order, cough to get Crowley’s attention and then said, quite delicately  
“My dear…friend. I am…very sorry indeed. I see now that I have been remiss. That I have not been paying attention as I should have been” he was shortly interrupted in his impromptu speech by Crowley, who let out a dry, humourless laugh, but soldiered on “I never meant to hurt you or, or to make you feel in any way less…less…” Words failed him here and he sighed  
“Oh please Crowley, look at me! Don’t make this so difficult for me, I’m trying to apologize here, I’m..”

When Crowley did turn around, however, he found that words failed him entirely  
Those bright, snake-like eyes that he had come to know so well over the past six thousand years shone with emotion. If he didn’t know better, he’d describe it as dread. Even more than he’d seen when the apocalypse was literally upon them  
“Crowley” he whispered, quite disconcerted “what..?”  
“What was it a metaphor for?” Crowley asked, his voice raspy, and hissy like it always was when he was drunk, or scared, or angry, slipping.  
Maybe he was all of it right now.  
Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to down his entire glass of champagne. While he did so, he heard that harsh, bitter, humourless laugh again, and he saw Crowley turn away from him again.  
“No!” he shouted and reached, instinctively, for his hand, covering it with his own.  
“No” he repeated, much softer, hardly daring to look at the demon  
“I…does it really need saying?” he asked in a mere whisper  
“After nearly six thousand years I bloody well fucking think it does!” Crowley growled  
“Such language!” Aziraphale chided him but did not pull his hand away  
A small smile started to spread on Crowley’s small lips “Ah, but you like it, Angel!”  
“You’ve been a very tempting influence for a very long time, I grant you that” Aziraphale smiled, gently drawing circles on Crowley’s hand with his thumb.  
Crowley looked thunderstruck. Swallowed. Then. “So?”  
“So I think this is a matter best discussed privately” Aziraphale answered gently “my bookshop still okay?”  
“As long as you’ve still got some of those Chateau de whatsits around” Crowley smirked  
“Are you driving?” Aziraphale asked, and he was as surprised at his own courage as was Crowley


	2. Reformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it can take people (or Angels and Demons) a long time to be quite that brave - but it's worth it.

“You know, you nearly DID kill that poor old Lady back there on Berwick Street!” Aziraphale shouted, opening the door of his bookshop with a snap of his fingers  
“Pfff” Crowley made, waving his hands and then, stepping into the shop, inhaled deeply  
“What on earth are you..?” Aziraphale went on to ask but stopped, seeing the demon's blissful face, eyes closed, nostrils flaring. He knew that look all too well.  
The smell of old books, of tea, his vintage chintz sofa, just a hint of lilies – home  
Blushing, he busied himself with both the kettle and a bottle of his very best red, mumbling over his shoulders “yes well, nearly untouched, quite the miracle, don’t you think?”

“Quite” Crowley responded, plopping down on a sofa, accepting the glass of wine he was offered and if his long fingers lingered a second longer over Aziraphale’s stubby ones, well, that…that…oh dear, Aziraphale had to sit down!

“So” Aziraphale started.  
“So” Crowley nodded fixing the Angel with his ineffable eyes. He was scared, he could tell. Scared, but also full of hope.  
As was he. He had to stifle a laugh. He had believed, really, truly believed the absolute test of his courage was the apocalypse, but no, turns out, his one true test had been right in front of him all this time. Only not in the way either side had ever fathomed. “Well”, he thought, gulping, while he stared into those ancient, incredibly kind and truly god-forbidden eyes, ““time to man up” as they say” and he took Crowley’s glass out of his hand and sat it aside, taking his place beside the demon. Taking his place beside his demon.

“Crowley” he started, his voice shaking, looking to the floor “It’s been a long time. We’ve been on this earth for a long time. Together. For better or for worse, as the humans say” and he giggled a little at his own joke and all the more so at Crowley’s curious and fond smile  
“That...that time you were so outraged when Jesus was crucified just because he told people to be kind to each other? Or, or when you were mad with anger because the ineffable plan included killing chi..” he choked. To this day, it still felt horrible to him. Horribly wrong.  
He felt a calming hand on his “You know, I did try to save the Unicorns” Crowley said, softly, and Aziraphale laughed.

That’s what he did, amongst so many other things. He made him laugh, when the great, big, frankly SHITTY, ineffable plan drove him mad once more and question his calling, his entire being, Crowley made him laugh. And he dared ask the questions he had never dared ask – at least not out loud. And, and he realized that just now, way too late, that’s why he fell. Was made to fall. Not for being bad. But for asking questions. Questioning things that went so, so wrong.  
Aziraphale sighed and finally made the choice, consciously, that he’d made, unconsciously, a long time ago  
“May I?” the Angel asked, gesturing to the spot next to Crowley on the narrow chintz sofa  
“Oh Aziraphale” Crowley sighed, as if in pain because he’d just spent the last five hours speaking to an idiot (which, by all accounts, he may have been, Aziraphale just realized)  
He scooted a little closer, just now realizing how far away he'd been sitting from his ...his Crowley

“It..it was a metaphor. Only…I think, at that time, a subconscious one, at that time” he stuttered, looking straight at the wall in front of him, adorned with maps of the old world as the humans of the 12th century had once seen it.  
“At that time?” Crowley inquired  
“Well, yes, I… I find that I have been quite oblivious for a long time. An idiot, if you’d like to call me that” he blushed and half turned his head  
Suddenly, he felt a large hand on his cheek turning his head ever so softly around and two blazing eyes full of love staring into his bright blue orbs  
“I’d never call you that” Crowley whispered  
Afterwards, neither would have been able to say who made the ultimate “first” step – between fumbled, whispered, giggled and drunken “I know”’s and “I love you, oh how I love you!”’s it was quite forgotten whether it was Aziraphale, who had finally seen the real light and planted the first, shy and featherlight kiss onto a demon’s lips, who thereupon found himself feeling lighter and more angelic than he had ever done as an actual angel, or whether it was Crowley, tired of his pining that had started when he’d seen his Angel carry out an act of kindness and disobedience that God herself was not willing to do to save her own creation, roughly and desperately grabbing Aziraphale’s jaw in both his slender hands and devouring his holy mouth with his clever tongue, only to slow down to gentle kisses when he heard his Angel’s word’s resonate in his mind “You’re going too fast for me”

Maybe it was both. They did end up, however, curled into each other, on Aziraphale’s chintz sofa and in each other’s arms, safe, secure, and with the deep understanding that they not only had each other, but that they had always had each other – and that they will always have each other.  
And when Aziraphale woke from his first nap in six thousand years, Crowley blinked at him and asked “What would you say to Crêpes for breakfast, my love?”  
And thus, they began the first day of the rest of their lives.


End file.
